


The slim line between interest and emotional devotion

by ConsultingStag



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hannibal kink meme, M/M, Will's dogs are pretty useless, creepy protector Hannibal, general mentions of cannibalism, sorry for comparing you with food Will
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-14 05:02:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingStag/pseuds/ConsultingStag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At a crime scene Hannibal notices someone observing Will a little too intently and the same evening he finds unknown footprints in front of Will's house. What will Hannibal do when he finds out that another killer has chosen Will as his next victim?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was a perfectly nice day, not cold but the sun was not shining too obtrusively for Hannibal to have to forego his full elegant attire. FBI cars were parked just outside the house where the latest crime had occurred, but he wouldn’t go in just yet. It shouldn’t take long for Will to arrive as most agents appeared to already be present.  When Jack had called, Hannibal had just been on the way to Wolf’s Trap with a box of lunch, so it had taken him a bit longer to get here. He didn’t know any details about the murder, so it was possible that Will would decline the offer of nourishment right after.

Besides cooking it had become his favourite occupation to watch Will as he emphasized with the killers. It was fascinating to observe the change he went through, the calmness that overcame Will, the subtlety with which he noticed every detail. Not at all like he usually acted, always buzzing with nervous energy and unable to keep still for long.

Over the last few weeks, Hannibal had found himself more often in front of Will’s house, if not with breakfast than lunch or invited him to dinner. It had become a highly satisfactory habit to cook for Will and watch him eat, complimenting his skills and telling him how delicious it tasted, not knowing what he was putting in his mouth.

Overlooking the crowd that had gathered to catch a glimpse of what was going on, Hannibal spotted Will’s familiar car at the street corner and frowned in disappointment. So Will was already at the crime scene. He’d probably missed the display of Will’s rare and fascinating talent by now, which was too bad but to mourn that missed opportunity wouldn’t change a thing. Cooking for Will more frequently had reduced his stock of meat anyway. There’d be a new crime scene where he could observe Will and capture his every reaction soon enough.

Standing beside his car, Hannibal decided to wait for Will to come out. At the thought of going in now he pursed his lips disdainfully. It was worth a short, though not serious consideration, but walking in while Will was possibly still in the mind of the murderer would be like coming late to a particularly exquisite performance. Still worth watching, but the true beauty of it all wouldn’t be able to assert itself. Not to mention that it would be ineffably rude.

When Will eventually walked out of the house, looking pale like he usually did after coming back to himself, Hannibal stepped forward, stopping when something caught his interest. Something wasn’t quite right with someone in the crowd. It was a man, mid-thirties with short blonde hair, modest appearance, hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, whose attention was entirely focused on Will. That in itself was nothing out of the ordinary, the other people did the same, as Will was coming out alone, but Hannibal could tell that he wasn’t curious like the rest of the ordinary folks.

No, he appeared more like he was waiting, expectantly so. Hannibal narrowed his eyes slightly, almost unnoticeable for everyone who would happen to look his way.  There was a tensed relaxedness about the man, the one of a predator watching his prey. Hannibal didn’t like someone else invading his turf, less eying what was his. Which didn’t necessarily mean that it couldn’t arouse his inquisitiveness about his intentions.

Just as Hannibal debated whether or not to go over and mingle with the crowd to get a closer look at the man, Will had detected him and came over, putting the possibility of further investigation on hold. He evened his features before smiling when Will was in an appropriate distance to do so.

“It appears that I happened to have come a bit late” Hannibal noted pleased that Will stopped only about half a meter beside instead in front of him, making it possible to stand closer without feeling as invaded in his personal space. This showed how far the other already trusted him and accepted his presence.

“What are you doing here?” Jack came out of the house, followed by some other members of his team. His service would probably no longer be required, but Will could fill him in about the details later. Out of the corners of his eyes, Hannibal registered that the man was still staring at Will, not sparing as much as an ounce of interest for anyone else.

“Jack called me just as I was on the way to your house to make sure that you get something to eat, preferably not some kind of unhealthy junk food” The crowd was slowly dispelling, but the man made no attempt to leave yet  “Besides, it’s always more pleasant to eat in company, don’t you think, Will?”

“Thanks, but it’s really not necessary that you always bring me food. And right now I don’t think I can eat anything, not so shortly after, you know” Will gestured towards the house as if apologizing for spurning the meal.

“I understand” Hannibal turned his head, eyes fixating the man, no longer hiding that he was aware of his heedfulness regarding Will. When he was certain that the man remarked his stare, he placed a hand on Will’s shoulder who flinched slightly but didn’t shy away from the touch and directed him to his car at the other side of the crime scene.

“I’ll simply stop by your place later and reheat it there” Will gave him a mock affronted look, not quite meeting his eyes as his spectacle frame was directly in his line of vision and Hannibal ignored the urge to adjust them. He didn’t want to scare Will away by being too intrusive. It had taken him long enough to claim Will’s friendship to allow retrograde steps.

“Not trusting me with the simple task of reheating food?”

“No, it would afflict me to have my dishes charred beyond recognition and as I said, eating in company is more pleasant” Will chuckled, oblivious to the pair of eyes following them. It was liable Will was still too preoccupied with the crime to give his surroundings more attention than required.

The man unhurriedly walked away when Will started his engine, giving Hannibal no opportunity to get a closer look at him without having to hasten. That was one of the annoying things with predators; they tended to noticed when someone else was lying on lookout. Even if Hannibal wasn’t lurking around prey (Will wasn’t his prey, he had no intention of hunting him. If anything he wanted to possess Will, consume every piece of him and savour the taste slowly) and waiting for the perfect opportunity, making himself conspicuous was always unwelcome when he couldn’t control time and place.

It would be easy enough to tell Jack that he’d seen a suspicious person, it would be truthfully, but for now Hannibal was content with biding what interesting fruit it would yield. Time would tell if it was relishable or would have to be eradicated.


	2. Chapter 2

In the evening, after his last patient had left, Hannibal drove to Wolf’s Trap. Crossing the distance to Will’s house, the doctor deprecatingly noticed footprints he didn’t recognize. There were only a few people who ever came here and Hannibal could differentiate them all, but those neither belonged to Alana nor Jack and he highly doubted that Will had invited anyone else over. Moreover they made a u-turn about thirty feet away from the patio. Hannibal pressed his thin lips into a tight line as he pulled out his cell phone to take a picture of a clearly visible one. Fortunately, the ground was still slightly soggy from the heavy rain a few days ago.

The prints were about his size, meaning that whoever had come here was probably about 6,3’ feet tall and -judging by the outline of it they belonged to a men’s shoe,- male. The dogs really were useless as watchdogs, most likely they wouldn’t even bark if a burglar came for a late night visit.

Hannibal knocked at the door, bag with the food in his hand, and after a few moments Will opened the door, smiling slightly when he saw the doctor. The dogs prowled around Will’s legs, wagging their tails when they saw who was standing there.  Hannibal feared shortly for his suit as one of them attempting to hurtle past its owner, but a ‘tsk’ from Will made it obediently desist from greeting the doctor all too excited. 

Perhaps he shouldn’t bring them meat on a regular basis anymore. Otherwise he’d have to dread the day when dirty paw prints soiled his expensive clothing, as the dogs often gamboled in the garden when he came over. It would be so easy to break some of their bones or to step on a paw, hear the bones crunch underneath his shoes, but they were like family to Will. Their yowls of pain wouldn’t subserve deepening their relationship and compared to the efforts Hannibal had put in that, a ruined suit would be sufferable.

“Good evening, Will. It’s always a joy to see the dogs behave so obediently.”

“Why?” Will arched a brow quizzically and stepped aside to let Hannibal in. “Because they respect me?”

“Partly, yes. But rather because they love and respect you,” Hannibal said, walking into the kitchen. After spending so much time here he knew better than Will where all the cooking utensils were. “Dog owners make a recurrent mistake. Either they are satisfied with their dog adoring them, but never listening to a single order, or they drill them until they obey immediately and without hesitation, while not sparing a thought to the fact that they’re living, feeling creatures, capable of emotions.”

Will prepared tea for them after he’d let the dogs out to play so they wouldn’t get tempted to loiter around the kitchen while Hannibal reheated the food. There was a comfortable silence for a while in which he watched Will pour the boiling water into two mugs. He’d turned his back to Hannibal;-his hair was still damp from the shower he apparently had just taken, and Hannibal couldn’t help imaging the drops clinging to his dark locks being blood instead of water. He’d looked so beautiful after he’d killed Hobbs;-the blood had contrasted lovely against his pale skin, his shaking red hands and those usually so expressive eyes behind the glasses staring lifeless through the blood that had splashed on them. It had truly been an exquisite sight.

He desired to paint a picture of it and exhibit it on his wall, showing the whole world that divine scene. The innocent lamb drenched in the evil of the defeated wolf that had still left its marks and sunk its unseen fangs into the sheep’s very core, leaving seeds there to be forever bound to one another.

Alas, Hannibal couldn’t risk giving in to that temptation, no matter how sweet it was, and had to be content with the images his mind had saved.

When Will turned around, mugs in his hands, Hannibal had already slipped his mask of polite indifference back on. Even if it was highly improbable that Will would look at his face too closely, he’d always have to be careful around Will and his fascinating mind.

“That smells good! What is it?” Hannibal looked inside the oven. The dinner was almost ready, it only needed three more minutes.

“Baeckeoffe,” Hannibal replied with a smile, silently adding, “with a smack of a postman.”

 

After Will had finished his serving Hannibal inquired about the specifics of the murder.

“There was something disturbing at the scene.” Will started pacing while Hannibal cleared the table. “I don’t—I don’t know, but I got the feeling that the killer wanted to tell me something.” If Will hadn’t had his attention already, he’d most certainly have it now. It was Hannibal who had communicated with Will through crime scenes so far. The thought of anyone else getting closer to Will in that way send a hot wave of anger through his veins and a streak of possessiveness Hannibal was only all too familiar with when it came to Will. This meant the killer knew that Will was special. The fact that the killer had taken the time to leave a message was prove enough for Hannibal, and he’d only too gladly show everyone who Will belonged. Carve ‘Will is mine’ in the killer’s chest and leave him on display, so everyone could see it.

“As if he wanted to communicate with me, showing me something,” Will stopped in front of a books shelf, absentmindedly brushing over the spines of the books.

“And what did he want to show you, Will?”

“I’m not entirely sure that my assumptions are correct. The body’s—Mrs. Fuller’s cut off arm was pointing at the entry, although he made it look as if it had been placed that way by accident,” Will explained, pinching his nose and running a hand through his hair. Hannibal observed him intently; saw the short flash of worry that crossed Will’s face.

 “Death maybe? Her hand was pointing at the people coming through the door. It was as if he was saying ‘You’,” Will was back in the kitchen, nervous fingers playing with a dishtowel ,“’You’re next’.”

So the man among the crowd had indeed been the murderer and the footprints in front of Will’s house most certainly belonged to him as well.

“Who was the killer referring to?” he kept his voice even, nothing indicating that he already knew the answer.

“Me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to learn for a math test next week, so it may take a bit longer until the next chapter is finished  
> hope you enjoyed it so far =)


	3. Chapter 3

 

“Did you tell Jack about it?” Will shook his head, fiddling around with the back of the chair. “Why didn’t you?” Hannibal inquired when Will made no attempt to explain.

“As I said, I’m not entirely sure. It’s more of a hunch really and he needs every agent out there” Will shrugged. “Besides, I don’t want anyone supervising me twenty-four-seven. I can take care of myself.” Hannibal refrained from pointing out that Will couldn’t and they both knew it. “And even if someone tries to break in I’m sure the dogs will notice and bark.” Hannibal only raised an eyebrow at that, amused at the faith Will had in his dogs.

“As much as I understand and respect your need for privacy and comfort of your own house, Will, I have to ask you to spend the night at my house. It’s too dangerous for you to be alone until the killer is caught.” Will’s eyes widened in surprise, reminding Hannibal of a startled animal as he stared at him. He could understand that Will was opposed to the idea of sleeping somewhere else; his house was giving him some kind of stability and then there was the precariousness of whether or not he’d end up sleepwalking or only drench someone else’s bed  in his cold sweat.

 “Um. Thanks- thank you for the offer, Doctor Lecter, but I’ll be quite all right on my own.” Hannibal didn’t like it when Will used formalities in such situations, because he was putting more distance between them, even if he wasn’t aware of it. It would be a lie if he said that he didn’t feel the last bit offended by that reaction. After all the time they had spent together, Will should find his presence a bit more relaxing.

Spending time with Will was like making a savory Soufflé, you always needed to pay close attention to your every step, because if you made even the tiniest mistake, you’d have to begin from scratch. With the right instructions it might be easier, but Hannibal had no directive of how to act around Will; he could never be sure, what to say or not to say.

There had been easier tasks than to convince Will that it would be safer for him if he spent the night at Hannibal’s place. The house was Will’s safe haven, even if the nightmares had crept into that peacefulness and nested in his bedroom. Persuading Will to leave it while he wasn’t sure if there was an imminent threat was hard work, but Hannibal had managed to handle more difficult things before. It wouldn’t take him more than five minutes to render Will immobile and drag him into the car, but Will surely wouldn’t appreciate that method and Hannibal wanted Will to come with him voluntarily.

“Then I see myself forced to sleep here tonight, Will. No matter what you say, I won’t let you stay here on your own with a potential threat out there,” He could see the gears turning in Will’s head as he was trying to find a solution or at least, a convincing argument to contradict the truth in Hannibal’s words.

Hannibal was positive that Will would agree to sleep at his house, because there was no guestroom here and offering his own bed to Hannibal was surely out of the question for him as he knew that the doctor had a sensitive nose and would be able the smell his cold sweat that must have ingrained into the pillows and mattress no matter how often the sheets were changed. Of course, the couch was a possibility, but Hannibal knew from the glance Will cast his suit that the other had already dismissed that thought.

“Fine,” Will sighed in defeat. “I’ll stay at your house for the night.” Hannibal contained the satisfied smile that tugged at the corners of his lips, pleased with that outcome. Gratuitousness was a matter of perception.  It would be a lot easier to execute his plan with Will out of the way and the likelihood of unforeseen deviations would be less probable.

 

Will tried to convince Hannibal that he didn’t need to wait for him, considering they’d drive separately, because Will had a lecture in the morning. Still, Hannibal stayed and waited while Will fed his dogs and packed a few things for the night, watching as he puttered around the house with a fond half-smile playing on his lips.

“I’ll drive behind you, just to ensure no one is following you to my house”

“You don’t have to do that, I can take care of myself.”

“Four eyes are more than two. Moreover, someone has to look out for you if you show so little regard for your own life, my dear Will.” Will fell silent, unable to contradict that statement.

Over the months he’d almost perfected reading Will, and he knew that the other didn’t think highly of his life. A social outcast, partly by choice, partly because others were overextended and inapt in dealing with people who were as different from them as Will was. Too few tried to cope with it, most simply labeled him as a freak so they wouldn’t even have to try and understand his beautiful mind.  In addition to his angst of losing his mind and his sense for reality it was only understandable that he thought he didn’t hold much value. Only good enough to catch killers or hold lectures, but he was constantly observed and evaluated; hungry vultures ready to tear into his flesh the moment he tripped.

Will couldn’t be more wrong.

To Hannibal, Will was like a bottle of an excellent and very rare 18th century Château Lafite Rothschild, something exquisite that had to be relished and enjoyed slowly. Something you wanted to keep for a long time, because if you emptied the bottle too fast, you may never get the opportunity to savor its divine taste in your mouth ever again. The temptation to consume it was almost overwhelming, but so was the wishful urge to put it on display, so you would be always reminded that you had it and that it belonged to no one else but you.

Hannibal would never be able to fully fathom how people could not see just how precious Will was. Then again, when Will himself was blind to his own worth, what could be expected from the selfish, small-minded humans who only appreciated things they were instructed to do so?

 

Throughout the ride to his house, Hannibal paid close attention to the traffic behind them, but to his satisfaction, there was no suspicious vehicle attempting to follow them.

Leading Will towards the guestroom, Hannibal noticed Will’s growing fidgetiness and wondered when was the last time Will slept at someone else’s place. The guestroom was spacious, decorated in lighter colors than the dining room and Will stood a little lost in the doorway.

“Make yourself at home and don’t hesitate to ask me if you need anything, Will.”

“Um, yes. Thanks.” While Will unpacked his few things, Hannibal went down to prepare tea. He had already switched on the kettle before he had gone upstairs. It didn’t take long for Will to appear in the kitchen, but Hannibal still had enough time to slip two sleeping pills into his cup and watch them dissolve.

“Here you go.” Hannibal handed Will his cup, who nodded appreciatively and took a careful sip of the steaming liquid. The doctor leaned against the kitchen counter, perfectly relaxed while Will clung to his cup with both hands as if his life depended on it.

“When was the last time you slept at a friend’s house?” Hannibal asked, the question obviously taking Will aback if his frown was anything to go by.

“It should be obvious that I don’t have many friends, Doctor Lecter,” Will laughed dryly. “And I feel qualmish not sleeping in my own home.” Will gulped down the rest of his tea, looking as if he felt out of place, knuckles turning white.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll have a good night’s sleep.” Hannibal smiled his most unperilous smile and took Will’s empty cup from his hands. “The mattress is extremely comfortable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for always comparing you with foodstuff, Will.  
> I'd really like to take a sip of a Château Lafite Rothschild one day XD  
> my math tet was pretty awesome, almost got a perfect score, but I made a careless mistake and now I'm missing one and a half point and that's a bit frustrating XP


	4. Chapter 4

The sleeping pills did their task excellently, and it didn’t take more than fifteen minutes before Will excused himself, rubbing his drowsy and unfocused eyes with a hand like a little kid. In moments like these, it was easy to understand why Jack thought of Will as a fragile china cup that could break beyond repair easily, but even  Jack seemed to forget that this fragile tea cup was full of steaming liquid, and if you didn’t pay attention and weren’t careful enough, you’d burn yourself. Hannibal never liked the metaphor with the cup much. It wasn’t correct, because if it was, more people would see just how valuable and precious Will was.

Hannibal followed him as he made his way to the guestroom, slightly swaying on his feet. He wanted Will to sleep tightly, not to fracture or break some body parts by falling down the stairs. If Hannibal wanted to break Will, there were far more enjoyable methods to do so.

 His was proven right when Will staggered on the stairs, missing a step and falling backwards. A yelp escaped his lips as he stretched his hand out to grab something, but there was nothing for him to hold onto. Hannibal was there in an instant, and before Will could hit the ground, one of Hannibal’s hands slipped around his abdomen, the other wrapping around his arm. Will’s back pressed against the doctor’s broad chest, and he could hear a sharp intake of breath.

Will was surprisingly light, but then again, Hannibal was used to carry the dead weight of much sturdier bodies. The rapid beating of his heart was visible at his neck, body heat seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt, and Hannibal’s tongue darted out to moisturize his lips. It was tempting to lean forward, overcoming what little space there was left between his teeth and the thrumming vein in Will’s neck. He wanted to feel Will’s sing life beneath his mouth and slip a hand underneath his clothes to scrape his nails over the skin and feel the muscles move, when Will eventually started to struggle.

Hannibal bent his head forward slightly, the dark curls tickling his face, the horrendous smell of Will’s aftershave was even stronger so close up, and Hannibal wrinkled his nose in distaste. At the next occasion, he’d buy one that suited Will better and make him promise to discard of every bottle of his current one.  He froze, blinking in astonishment and surprise when he realized what he had been about to do and carefully let go of Will when he was certain that the other stood steady on his feet.

“Careful, Will, I wouldn’t want to have to practice my medical skills on you” Will chuckled shakily and turned around, his fingers toying with the hem of his shirt nervously. His eyes were glued to a point above Hannibal’s shoulder, but it was obvious that Will would’ve much rather studied the floor intently and had to force his focus not to drift there.

“Th-thanks. It’s been a long day.” He gave Hannibal a lopsided smile that didn’t reach his eyes, while his cheeks flushed an alluring shade of red. Interesting. “Guess I’ve been more tired than I thought.” Hannibal followed Will to the guestroom to prevent a second accident, but this time Will made it without stumbling, mumbling a goodnight and practically fleeing into the room, shutting the door behind him.

He waited half an hour before he peeked inside to make sure Will was sound asleep then got in his car and drove to Wolf’s Trap. He parked his car aside the road, where it was hard to spot for anyone who’d drive to Will’s house. The moon illuminated the scene, but he was content that his car was well hidden. It would be a terrible hassle to repeat the same procedure tomorrow if the killer didn’t show. Hannibal looked at the clock in his car. Half past midnight.

It bothered him that his body had moved on its own accord, letting his control slip even if it was for a split second. Hannibal scowled at the dashboard. If it hadn’t been for Will’s nasty aftershave, he wouldn’t have stopped until it would’ve been too late. Though, after Will’s reaction to the physical contact, he was intrigued to find out what kind of expression he would’ve made if he hadn’t stopped.

Just as he was almost sure that further wait would be a waste of time, a car drove down the road to Will’s house. Hannibal observed a man stepping out of the car, though it was too dark to make out his face, and sneaking up to the porch where he tampered with the door lock for a few seconds. Killing obviously wasn’t his only skill.

 No bark cut through the silence of the night air as the man stepped into the house, reminding Hannibal that he should convince Will to buy a security system.

The man didn’t stay long inside, what he had sought wasn’t there after all. His movements seemed calm and composed when he returned to his car, as far as Hannibal could tell from his position, and didn’t give away how he felt about this turn of events.  

He had considered eliminating the threat right away, but the police was still searching for the killer of the woman. He had no doubt that he could dispose of the body so it wouldn’t be found in the next few months, perhaps ever. That would leave Will in the belief that a murderer was still after him. Surely, it would be interesting to observe how both his physical and psychological condition would change, when confronted with yet another thing to worry about beside his mental stability. Hannibal could already see the constant thought nagging at the back of Will’s mind.

It should make it easier to break down the remaining distance between them, gaining every shred of trust Will hadn’t given him yet. And if he could convince Will to stay a few more days at his house, maybe he’d get completely accustomed to his presence.

But Hannibal didn’t plan to dispose of the man no matter how much he wanted to. The risk that something would happen to Will was higher than necessary if he didn’t interfere, but he wanted Will to catch the killer. Hopefully the successful chase would strengthen his survival instinct. Hannibal planned to keep Will for a very long time after all, and for that he needed Will to value his life more and pay more regard to it. That way he might learn to value himself more as well and see his true potential eventually.

If this plan didn’t develop to his satisfaction, he could still step in and take care of the vermin himself.

The man started his car and Hannibal followed him at a good distance back to the city, turning right at a crossroad while the other drove straight ahead to ease any suspicion the killer might have had. He made a u-turn and resumed his pursuit to a small, plain house. The grass in the small front yard needed to be mowed and the once white walls were in desperate need of new paint, Hannibal could see that even in the dim light the lanterns offered. It was impossible to make out concrete details, but Hannibal was glad that he was spared the sight of it. It fit in the neighborhood, but somehow Hannibal had expected a bit more…class. Hannibal wrinkled his nose in distaste.

Hannibal patiently waited until the lights in the house were turned off and then another five minutes, just to be safe, before he stepped out of his vehicle and slowly approached the door to take a look at the name plate with the light of his mobile phone.

Chris Fleyer.

He’d remember that name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, school got inbetween and surprised me with more tests....but it's just another month to go before summer holydays!!  
> I asked someone to be my beta-reader for this story, but so far she didn't respond, so you'll have to bear with my mistakes for a little longer (though I hope they aren't so horrible). You know how it goes; just complain if a mistake botheres you and I'll correct right away!  
> Have a great week =)


	5. Chapter 5

Two mugs filled with steaming tea already waited in the kitchen when Will came down the stairs. Hannibal stood at the stove, scrambled eggs with sausage sizzling in a pan. He mentally counted how long his meat supply would last when he had to cook for two every day and was relieved when his calculations came up with about a week. That was surely enough time for Will to catch Fleyer. If he gave him sleeping pills again, and he didn’t have any nightmares as a side-effect, it was highly possible that Will would get suspicious. Everyone would be glad and not question it when they had a pleasant night’s sleep, but from what Hannibal gathered during their sessions Will’s nightmares had gotten worse in the past few months, never leaving out a night to jerk Will awake, drenched in cold sweat and heart pounding heavily against his ribcage.

What if Hannibal manipulated Will into thinking that the nightmares only stopped when he slept in the doctor’s house? The thought was alluring but it was too dangerous as Will surely wouldn’t simply accept the fact and would instead search for a more plausible reason. And with Will’s fast processing mind, it wouldn’t take him long to figure out that he got sleepy after drinking something that Hannibal had given him.

 He turned around when he heard footsteps approaching the kitchen counter.

“Good morning, Will. Good thing you’re awake, I was just about to inform you that breakfast is ready.” Will’s dark curls were a mess like always, and Hannibal wondered how tightly he could yank at the strands without ripping them out if he was to bend Will over the counter and take him like that, only gripping Will’s hair for support.

An awkward, bashful smile splayed across Will’s lips that showed his uncertainty. Obviously, this was an unfamiliar field to Will, making him act like this was his first morning after. Hannibal quickly discarded the image that thought put his mind and switched off the stove.

“It smells really good,” Will said, his smile widening a bit.

“Then by all means take a seat in the dining room, I’ll be there momentarily,” Hannibal replied, and Will grabbed the two mugs and carried them into the other room, while Hannibal dished up the scrambled eggs and the sausage, taking his apron off then and placing it neatly folded on the counter.

Will looked out of place in the dining room, the big space made his thin frame appear even smaller, trying to swallow it up and gnawing at it from all sides. The dark, massive décor stood in stark contrast to his living and breathing existence. It was a beautiful sight to behold.

“Did you have a pleasant nighttime peace?” Hannibal asked, though he already knew the answer. He placed the plate in front of Will and took a seat at the corner next to him. If he could choose between this seat constellation and sitting across from someone, this was always his first choice. It made the subject feel not as confronted and had the advantage that the need for one’s personal space was far smaller. Especially in Will’s case, this method had proven to be most favorable more than once.

“Yes, actually,” Will said between mouthfuls of egg, knitting his brows. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve slept without waking up from a nightmare.”

“As I said, the mattress is extremely comfortable. Perhaps you should consider buying a new one yourself. If you wish so, I could accompany you to an excellent store I know”

“Ah, um...Thanks, I’ll think about it” Will stammered, not sure how to react to the proposal of picking out a mattress with Hannibal and tried to hide the beginnings of a blush by gobbling up the remains of his breakfast with very little elegance. The doctor hid his amused smile behind the mug he brought to his lips. The idea sounded like an enjoyable pastime activity, though he’d rather tie Will to a bed and paint him with blood. He’d make such a lovely picture.

“You’re welcome to stay another night to see if this kind of mattress would suit you. Besides, I think it would be wise not to stay at your home until the killer is caught. If he’s really after you, it will be easy for him to find out where you live.”  

“But the dogs…” Will trailed off, unable to come up with a reasonable counter-argument, looking at his plate as if it could provide an answer.

“They can surely manage a few days without you. In fact, I’m free this morning; I can drive over and feed them.”

“Alright.” Will looked up, surprise clearly written over his face and sighed. “Thank you for your hospitality, Doctor Lecter.”

 

After breakfast, Will drove off to give a lecture while Hannibal went to Wolf’s Trap once more. He checked the fresh footprints from last night. They matched the one on the photo, as Hannibal had expected. The lock showed small signs of forced entry, a few scratch marks, but nothing obvious if you weren’t looking for it.

 The dogs wagged their tails in excitement when they saw him, instantly surrounding him in expectation for food when he opened the door by using the spare key Will had given him.  A small dog leaped at his trousers while he inspected the doorknob once more and didn’t pay attention. In an instant, Hannibal’s fingers closed around the dog’s throat, which whimpered feebly, and pressed on its windpipe, but not yet hard enough to leave any permanent damage.

Would Will notice if he fed him one of the dogs?

Counting to ten Hannibal had to convince himself that it would be a very bad idea, even though there was a new recipe for a bouillon he wanted to try out. His grip softened and the dog squirmed away. The next time it would think twice before leaping at him. He inspected the trousers of his suit, no damage except for a few dog hairs. Hannibal glared at the other dogs before walking into the house, but they didn’t seem to care about that, as they happily continued to jumble around him.

The water for the dogs was nearly empty, so he refreshed it after giving them food. While the dogs hungrily devoured the meat, Hannibal strolled through the house. It always surprised him how tidy it was. The first time he’d come here, he’d expected to find the house in a state that would match Will’s tousled hair. When he passed the kitchen, he stopped in his tracks to look at a piece of paper stuck to small pinboard.

Will’s curriculum.

How probable was it that the killer had seen it last night?  Hannibal scanned the drawers. The man had been looking for Will after all and there was nothing that would indicate that the man rummaged through Will’s things. Besides, if the killer researched Will online then surely, he already knew where and when he gave lectures.

After the dogs had licked their bowls clean Hannibal let them out to gambol and play among each other while he got his tablet from his car and then sat down in the chair on the porch, using his mobile phone as a hotspot.

He typed Chris Fleyer into the search engine and scrolled through the results until he found a match. There wasn’t much about him, but anything was better than nothing.

Fleyer was thirty-eight and worked in the hospital where Abigail had received treatment. There was a photo of him and the staff, Hannibal recognized him immediately. His blonde hair was longer and he had a beard, but it was unmistakably him. While he worked in the hospital, Fleyer wasn’t a doctor, but a male nurse.

Why did he want to kill Will?

Hannibal didn’t know if anything in particular happened in the hospital. Will had been there often to look how Abigail was doing, but something must have caught Fleyer’s interest. He surely didn’t choose Will randomly. Same went for the murdered woman.

What had been the victim’s name? Fuller? Hannibal consulted the search engine once more. Brutal death of woman was the first result. He scrolled down further, until a headline caught his attention. _Man loses arm in accident._

He clicked on the link and skimmed over the article. Apparently, she had been married to a construction worker who’d been delivered to the hospital nearly a month ago. Her husband had lost his arm in an accident that had occurred at the construction site, but he’d survived.

Surely, this was no coincidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more exams to go and then my class is going to Sylt while I can stay at home because I already went there last year XD Hopefully I'll have more time to write then or babysit my little sister, then I can forget about writing altogether because she perfected demanding everyone's full attention. Leave her out of your sight and she may try to eat the dog food...  
> Hope you enjoyed it so far! This isn't beta-read yet so criticize all you want =)


	6. Chapter 6

The appointment with his first patient that day was set for two in the afternoon. Hannibal glanced at his watch. That gave him a bit more than three hours. Not much time, because the drive back would almost take just as much.

There was a  lead he could follow, but after seeing the curriculum in the kitchen, Hannibal felt a rather irrational worry gnawing on the pit of his stomach, and the urge to drive to the Academy and see if Will was still there, and that Fleyer wasn’t waiting for him outside was hard to ignore. It was an unnecessary thing to do, there were easier ways to find out where Fleyer was.

A simple text message would have to suffice for now. Hannibal pulled out his phone.

_The dogs are doing fine. What time may I expect you for dinner?_

_-Hannibal_

Instead of impatiently waiting for a reply, he dialed the Hospital. A woman answered the phone.

“Hello, I’m from Madison Electronics to inform one of our customers about a power failure. His name is…um…Fleyer.  Could I speak to him?” There was short silence while the woman looked for the work schedule.

“Yes, he’s here. Please wait a moment, I’ll get him for you.” Good. Hannibal felt relief flood through him. He couldn’t quite comprehend why he was so concerned about Will’s safety. It would be intolerable to lose him to the ineptness of another killer, who wouldn’t be able to cherish the exquisite Will was completely. Sure, it would be truly regretful, but he had enjoyed himself before Will had been around. Yet he couldn’t stand the thought of losing Will. It would all be so dull without him. There would be something lacking in his life, which he didn’t know he needed before.

 “Oh, so sorry Miss,” Hannibal said in an apologetic voice. “It seems I got the wrong name. It’s Floyer.”

Hannibal remembered the times he’d listened to Bach’s ‘Goldberg-Variations’ when he’d been little, and how divine it had sounded. How perfect. He had listened to it over and over again, thinking that it was true beauty. And then he’d attended a concert one day where a pianist had played the piece. The same piece he’d listened to so many times, but something else entirely at the same time. It still had been a pleasure to listen to the tape afterwards, but it hadn’t sounded as divine anymore. It was a bit dull, lacking life he hadn’t known before had been absent.

 “Let me check the name.” Hannibal could hear typing at the other end of the line. “No, there’s no one named Floyer working here.”

“Alright. Probably a mistake in the records. Sorry to have bothered you, Miss.” He hung up before the woman could say anything in return.

 

The dogs weren’t happy when Hannibal commanded them into the house. He hesitated shortly before deciding against locking the front door. It had already showed that Fleyer had no trouble breaking in, so leaving the door open wouldn’t do any harm. Besides, it would be better if the dogs could relieve themselves outside.

He checked his phone for new text messages, although it was on vibration. He felt uneasy, even though he knew that Fleyer was working.

Maybe Will had turned his phone off?

He’d told him to keep it on, just in case there was an emergency.

Hannibal started the engine of his car and pondered if he should prepare the meat (the liver of the postman would be a good choice) or wait until Will came back. It was always thrilling to have Will watch him prepare their meals, and if Will wasn’t trying so hard to avoid eye contact, he would be able to see a hungry and traitorous glint in Hannibal’s eyes. He decided to prepare it right away if there was still some time before his client arrived.

His mobile phone started to ring and Hannibal pulled over after squinting at the display, slightly concerned when he saw Will’s name. It was absolutely irrational to think that something had happened to Will, but still the nagging worry didn’t go away until he heard Will’s breath at the other end of the line.

“Hello, Will.”

Will half swallowed his greeting and got right to the point, “Listen, I don’t know when I’ll be able to come over. Jack called me. There was another murder.” The sound of a motor was faintly audible in the background. “I’m on the way to the crime scene.”

“Do you want me to come over, Will? I can cancel my meeting.” The client suffered a terminal illness and had about three more months to live, and a meeting less wouldn’t make him die any sooner.

“No, it’s alright. I’ll text you when I’m finished.” Hannibal opened his mouth to reply, but the call was already disconnected.

So Fleyer had gone home, got up early and murdered another person before going to work. Obviously he wasn’t happy about not getting his hands on Will and needed to satisfy his urge with another person.

The period between Fleyer’s murders was short. Hannibal would wait for Will at the academy tomorrow, certain that Fleyer would strike sooner rather than later.

 

Will came over before his last session was over; ―Hannibal had heard the door and waited impatiently for the session to come to an end. When the patient finally left, Hannibal went into the kitchen where Will was leaning against the counter, a cup of tea in his hand. He looked pale and exhausted, ready to fall into bed, but not yet prepared to face new nightmares.

“It was the same killer,” Will began, before Hannibal had a chance to ask.

Will stared at the cup. “It was a man this time. Mid-thirties.” His fingers twitched as he relived the crime scene. “Both his legs where cut off and positioned near the door, as if they wanted to walk out.” Will paused.

“Where to?” Hannibal switched on the electric kettle.

“To the next crime scene.”

“I assume they were deliberately placed there, like the hand of the previous victim?” Will gave a slow nod and pinched the bridge of his nose, right under the frame of his glasses.

Will took a deep breath before explaining the details of the crime scene further. As he did so, he placed his mug on the counter and started to pace, unable to keep still. His fingers fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

“And was there another message for you?” Will stopped for a brief moment, before he resumed his pacing.

“Um, yes.” He swallowed. “Yes, there was. The feet. They were placed with artistic precision.” Will stared at the kitchen equipment as if he wanted to memorize each and every detail of the various devices. An attempt to stay in the here and now and not let his thoughts delve into the killers mind.  “He’s coming for me next. They meant to show me, that I can’t run from him. And that he’s already on his way to come and get me.”

“And did you tell Jack?”

Will snorted sarcastically. “Yes. He asked me how I knew he wanted to kill me, and I said I didn’t know. There was no evidence that could explain or prove it.”

“So he didn’t believe you.”

“No. He said I was probably getting paranoid. Although he didn’t say it so bluntly.”

Will looked up, eyes fleeting over Hannibal’s face and meeting his eyes for a second. “Am I paranoid, Doctor Lecter?”

He wanted to say yes, just to see Will’s expression. “Do you think you’re paranoid, Will?” No. Now wasn’t the right time. He wanted Will determined to catch the killer before the killer caught him.

Will hesitated. “No.” It was always much too obvious when Will lied. Hannibal raised an eyebrow. “I don’t― I’m not sure, but I don’t think so.”

 “You are a few things, but paranoid is not one of them, Will.” He thought about telling Will, that his door showed signs of forced entry when Will gave him a grateful smile, but decided against it. He liked being the only person Will could turn to. Being the only one that believed him.

 

Not long after dinner, Will excused himself and retired for the night. Hannibal stayed up for a bit longer. He sat down at his desk, a glass of Château d'Yquem in his hand, and leaned back. For a second he let a carnivorous smile splay across his face. Will was so completely unsuspecting. He enjoyed the knowledge that he could simply go upstairs and curl his hands around Will’s throat, and see the agonizing realization on his face when he woke up.

When he went upstairs, Hannibal stopped in front of the door that lead into the guestroom. He frowned when he noticed that his hand was touching the doorknob. He wanted to see Will’s peaceful face, when he wasn’t plagued with nightmares and free from his troubles.

 Instead of giving in to that wish, he turned around and went into his bedroom at the end of the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I was kept busy by some exams. Hope the next chapter will be finsihed sooner =)  
> Spoiler for next chapter: Fleyers getting a bit to close to Will for Hannibals liking


	7. Chapter 7

The door creaked nearly inaudible when it was opened, but the sound was loud enough for Hannibal’s trained ears. His eyes flew open, and he was fully awake in an instant, every fiber of his body prepared to defend himself if necessary.

When he’d moved into the house, Hannibal had oiled all the hinges so the doors would swing open without the faintest sound. Except for the door to his bedroom. The sound annoyed him every time he opened the door, but it was a cheap price to pay for precaution. It was easy to switch off an alarm system, a creaking door on the other hand not so much if you didn’t know about it.

There was the sound of bare feet on wood, slowly approaching his bed. Hannibal opened the drawer of his nightstand noiselessly, took the knife he kept there and stood up in a swift motion, ready to kill whoever had dared to break into his house. His body tensed, prepared to lunge forward.

In the dark it was impossible to make out more than the silhouette of a man, but Hannibal recognized it anyway, even before his eyes had the chance to adjust to the darkness. Hannibal could only stare in surprise for a moment.

It was Will, dressed only in a shirt and boxers. He didn’t seem to have taken a notice of Hannibal’s presence, and continued his slow walk towards the bed.

Quietly, Hannibal put the knife back into the nightstand. The thought to wake Will didn’t even graze his mind. Hannibal wanted to see what Will would do (although it was rather obvious that Will’s goal was the bed). It was the first time Hannibal saw Will sleepwalking. A rather interesting sight, really. Will looked dazed, as if he’d been drugged, and his motions were equally slow.

Will must have missed the door to the guestroom in his current state when he’d returned from wherever he’d gone, because Hannibal doubted that Will had sleepwalked straight in here. He watched as Will climbed into the bed and closed his eyes with slight amusement. He pulled the blanket over the sleeping figure, not hesitating before settling down next to Will. He appreciated what little he could make out of Will’s features for a while, and listened to his even breathing.

Hannibal didn’t know what he wanted to see more. Will waking from a nightmare, gasping for air, or his reaction, when he realized that he had sleepwalked into Hannibal’s bed. Though the first scenario would provide him with both, waking from a nightmare would surely alter Will’s reaction to the latter.

 

The next time Hannibal opened his eyes, he had to blink against the bright morning light. For a second, he was taken aback by the presence of a body curled around his own and he stiffened. He turned his head a little, and was greeted by dark curls, Will’s head resting heavily on his shoulder. Hannibal allowed himself to relax.

The nasty odor of the terrible aftershave was almost gone, making room for a much more pleasant smell, mixed with a hint of sweat. He drew in a deep breath, savoring each component of Will’s smell.

Sometime in the night, Will must have rolled over, because he was half draped over Hannibal, one arm over his chest, and feat tangled with his. Not for the first time he wondered what those curls would feel like beneath his fingers.

It was new and strangely fascinating to witness Will so peaceful. He didn’t remind Hannibal of the screaming figure in Edward Munch’s painting “The Scream” anymore. At this moment, Will wasn’t trapped in his mesmerizing and captivating mind, exposed to his ability and not really able to defend himself against it, while no one heard his silent cries for it to stop dragging him in deeper and the fear that it would sooner or later engulf him fully wasn’t present.

Right from the beginning, Hannibal had had no intention to walk away from him like the two ignorant men in the picture. He was there for Will and would help him embrace this side of him and make him accept the darkness he brought back from that place. It would take time, but there was no need to rush.

Hannibal didn’t move, although his right hand felt numb from Will lying atop of it. Since he didn’t get to witness one of Will’s nightmares, he’d not so much as lift a finger before Will woke up. He was a patient man, and waiting was a necessary virtue when hunting one’s prey. He had learned that years ago.

So Hannibal waited.

Such a rare chance may very well never occur again. Both, seeing Will sleep peacefully like that and to see his reaction when he would wake up.

 

Hannibal didn’t know how much time had passed when Will shifted, his hair now tickling Hannibal’s chin, breath hot against his neck. He was overly aware of it and of Will’s limbs pressed against his body. The contact evoked a tingling sensation in him and made his skin feel heated.

Hannibal squinted at the alarm clock on his bedside table.

Five past eight in the morning.

He tried to remember the curriculum he’d seen in Will’s kitchen. Will’s first lecture today started at half past ten, and he wondered if Will had set an alarm on his mobile phone, and if it would be audible in Hannibal’s bedroom.

While the body heat radiating from Will was rather pleasant, Hannibal was too comfortable, to the point where wasn’t opposed to the idea of staying like this for another hour and listening to Will’s steady heartbeat.

He didn’t like it. There was nothing to gain from waiting for Will to wake up and yet Hannibal didn’t feel impatient. His gaze travelled over the sleeping form, although he couldn’t see much without turning his head and risking to wake Will.

A question interrupted his leisurely study, causing a frown to appear on his otherwise relaxed features.

Why did he try so hard not to wake Will up? He’d wake up sooner or later anyway, so it didn’t matter if he woke up on his own or because of Hannibal’s movement. Hannibal could easily feign just having woken up himself instead of wasting time waiting.

The answer was one Hannibal liked even less than the fact that he was so comfortable with Will lying on top of him.

He wanted Will to stay like that, wanted to continue listening to his heartbeat and feel the tingle of Will’s breath on his skin, and—

Hannibal cut that line of thought off and wriggled the arm that lay underneath Will a bit. Getting attached would only get in the way sooner or later. But knowing and acting according to that knowledge were two very different things. He couldn’t just stop to enjoy Will’s company or start disliking the smell of him when the horrible scent of the aftershave was almost gone.

Evaluating all the irritating feelings that had surfaced over time, there was really only one solution Hannibal could draw. There was no denying it.

He wanted Will.

Not just his friendship, or his mind, but everything. He wanted to possess Will fully, explore his body just like he had explored Will’s mind and keep him close (which was bound to end truly unfortunate one inevitable day).

The warmth and comfort Hannibal felt had neither to do with Will’s mind or his personality, nor with the knowledge that Will’s life was at his mercy (it made him feel powerful and in control, relaxed even, but it wasn’t responsible for the warmth he felt). The desire to touch Will, to let his hands roam over his body and make him lose control was only further evidence that Hannibal craved for Will’s body. Not to consume it, but to have Will alive; breathing and feeling.

 

Will stirred from the movement of Hannibal’s arm, the rhythm of his breathing changing ever so slightly. Hannibal closed his eyes and adjusted his own breathing. More movement on top of him and then a shocked intake of breathe. He could feel Will’s body tense up, surely considering if he could get out of the bedroom without waking Hannibal.

Hannibal opened his eyes slowly and blinked as if the light was too bright before settling his gaze on Will. He was met by two startled eyes, widened in bafflement and disbelief, and a blush spread across Will’s face at being caught. He wouldn’t be opposed to see that look more often or to suck at those slightly parted lips.

“Good morning, Will. Did you have a pleasant night’s sleep?” Hannibal inquired, the corner of his lip twitched in amused when Will stared at him with a dumbfounded expression.

“Yes, I— no, I mean— sorry!” Will stammered, clearly at a loss of words, and, realizing that he was still lying on top of Hannibal, scrambled out of the bed hastily, nearly falling down face first when his foot got tangled in the sheet. His face was beet red by now and he looked around the room, carefully not to let his eyes travel anywhere near the bed.

He wanted to grab Will’s arm and drag him back into bed and feel Will’s body against his once more.

“Sorry for invading your bedroom, Doctor Lecter,” Will said finally, managing to form a complete sentence. Hannibal got out of bed as well and approached the other slowly, watching Will’s body tense as he drew up in front of him.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, my dear Will,” Hannibal said, placing a hand on Will’s shoulder. Will jumped slightly at the touch, but didn’t shy away from it.

“You were sleepwalking and had no control over your body.”

Will looked startled at Hannibal’s nose. “I didn’t do anything, did I?” Will rushed to know, a hint of panic in his voice and swallowed anxiously.

“If you mean anything beside coming into my bed in the middle of the night and snuggling up to me, then no.” Will sighed in relief and Hannibal paused a second before he added, “You should really get rid of your aftershave, Will. You smell far better without it.”

Will opened and closed his mouth before he found his speech again. “I…um…should probably get my stuff and spend the night at home. Take care of the dogs…” He didn’t make any attempt to withdraw from Hannibal’s touch, but rather seemed to wait for Hannibal to let go of his shoulder.

 “I could have woken you, if I had felt bothered by your presence.” Hannibal’s gaze was fixed on Will’s carotid artery, the quick pulsing of it was faintly visible when he concentrated. There were certain benefits in Will’s thorough avoidance of looking anyone in the eye. Hannibal found the effect he had on Will fascinating and oddly pleasing. He wanted to know what other kind of reactions he could provoke. What kind of noise would Will make if Hannibal sucked at his pulse point?

Hannibal let his hand linger on Will’s shoulder for a moment longer before stepping back and going to his wardrobe. He didn’t wait for Will to leave before he began to undress and it was really a shame that he had turned his back to the other, because he was certain that the look on Will’s face would be almost as delicious as the one he had worn earlier.

“I’ll—“ Will cleared his throat and started the sentence anew. “I’ll go downstairs and make the..um…tea.” The sound of hurried footsteps and the noise Will made when he fled down the stairs, into the kitchen gave Hannibal a satisfied feeling. He hadn’t been wrong about his observations.

Will was attracted to him.

That fact gave Hannibal a fuzzy, warm feeling that made his heart accelerate its normal pace, and made his lip twitch before he gave in and allowed a smile to spread across his face while he dressed.

 

When Hannibal joined Will in the kitchen, the other looked still flustered and as if he wished to escape this situation he didn’t know how to handle.

Will offered Hannibal a cup of tea and mumbled sheepishly “I hope it tastes alright.” Hannibal let his fingers brush against Will’s deliberately, and the cup would have fallen down, if Hannibal’s hand hadn’t closed around it instantly.

While Will stood uncomfortable at the kitchen counter, Hannibal began to prepare breakfast, aware of Will’s gaze on his back. When he turned around, Will looked away guiltily, and pretended to study his cup. Something like fondness stirred in Hannibal and he tried to crush the feeling without success.

“Any new revelations regarding the killer?” Hannibal asked nonchalantly. It would be reassuring to know that Will was about to figure out who it was, so Hannibal wouldn’t have to worry about Fleyer getting his hands on Will.

Will shook his head slightly and stared thoughtfully at his cup as if it could give him a hint. “No. Other than that he’s male and somewhere in his late thirties I don’t know anything about him.”

There was no other way than to give Will an unsuspicious hint, because no matter how much longer Will would continue to stare intensely at the cup, it wouldn’t solve the case. Fleyer needed to be taken care of. Hannibal doubted that Fleyer would wait much longer before starting another attempt to make Will his next victim.

“Do the victims have any connection?”

“No, they have nothing in common.” Will sounded frustrated. “They are not about the same age, different gender, different hair color. They don’t have the same hobbies and live in completely different parts of the city.” Will was pacing up and down in front of the kitchen counter, brows furrowed in concentration.

“They were both married, but other than that I found nothing they have in common. I don’t know why he chose them or why he inflicted them different injuries!”

“What about their spouses? Maybe he saw them somewhere, accompanied by the victims,” Hannibal mused.

Will stopped his pacing and considered that thought. “It’s certainly worth a shot.”

Hannibal was positive that the wife of the last victim had been hospitalized as well and that she was missing both legs. Will had obviously not seen both victims spouses or he would already have drawn the right conclusions, but if he looked into the background of the spouses Hannibal was sure that it wouldn’t take long until Will caught Fleyer.

 

Not long after Will had left, Hannibal’s first patient arrived and he caught himself far too many times drifting off, wondering if Will had found out what the connection between the victims was, while his patient talked about his miserable love life. And Hannibal realized that, when Fleyer was caught, there would be no reason for Will to continue staying at Hannibal’s house. What bothered him wasn’t so much the fact that Will would return to his own home, but that he was disappointed by it.

It wouldn’t be necessary for Will to stay with Hannibal any longer after Fleyer’s capture. The information Hannibal had gathered during Will’s short stay was valuable and would suffice should he see the need to use it in the future. And even if the need didn’t arise, Hannibal planned to use it.

With Will around, Hannibal had to pay attention to his every move, so Will’s sharp mind wouldn’t start turning the right gears regarding who Hannibal really was. He couldn’t even collect organs with Will around, and what he’d stored in advance would only last for so long. Although it was unreasonable, he couldn’t stop craving for Will’s presence. It seemed as if during Will’s stay an empty void had formed inside him that appeared when Will was absent. It fed on Will’s presence, growing larger whenever Hannibal was near him, and now it was strong enough to overpower his logical reasoning.

Perhaps it had been there before and Hannibal simply hadn’t noticed it.

It was alarming, but not yet posing a threat and was certainly worth to be observed further, so Hannibal saw no need to distance himself from Will anytime soon.

Maybe there would be an unfortunate arson case taking place in Wolf’s Trap in the future.

Hannibal barely paid attention to what his next patients talked about. He would have cancelled his appointments if he hadn’t considered that to be incredible rude on such a short notice. So he simply nodded from time to time and made a few meaningless comments.

He resisted the urge to text or call Will and ask if he had found the connection yet, although, Hannibal supposed it would be appropriate when he showed more interest than usually. Still, it was unnecessary. Hannibal gladly noted that the last session for today was about to end.

As soon as the patient was out of the door, Hannibal locked the doors, went to his car and drove to the college. Will’s classes would end in about half an hour if Hannibal. The drive would take a bit longer, but as Will always stayed behind after classes, Hannibal was convinced that Will would still be there.  

He spotted Will’s car when he parked and walked towards the auditorium. There weren’t many students around anymore. The door was open and Hannibal stepped in, expecting to see Will either absorbed in thoughts or working.

Instead, he was greeted by an empty room. He froze for an instant. Papers and a laptop were lying on the desk and Hannibal quickened his pace, worry nagging at him. His hope that they weren’t Will’s things was crushed when he stepped closer. A sheet of paper had fallen onto the floor, others were slightly crumpled, and the chair had been knocked over. Will always kept his things tidy and in order. His heart rate sped up for a second time that day, only this time it was accompanied by the rush of adrenalin and the sinking feeling of dread instead of the pleasant warmth he felt earlier.

Hannibal turned around and hurried back to his car. The previous victims had all been murdered in their own homes, and since Fleyer had already been in Will’s house, it was most likely where he intended to end Will’s life, Hannibal reasoned feverishly. He ignored all speed limits he came across, there was no time. The other victims had been killed shortly after Fleyer had made his way into their houses. That meant Fleyer had no intention to keep Will alive longer than necessary.

They couldn’t have been gone long. Fleyer must have waited until the last student had left the auditorium. Hannibal’s hands clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white.

He should have taken care of Fleyer when he had the chance and not left it to Will, hoping that the other would come to care more about his life when confronted with a potential threat for it.

What if he came too late?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait guys! My sorry excuse is a new book, but I read that in two days so, hey it is much longer than the other chapters! Hannibal was a pain in the ass this chapter, maybe he'll be one for Will next chapter as well =)  
> If you guys don't know what to read and are alright with having your heart ripped out before getting a warm hug, be punched in the stomach and then kissed on the cheek you should try out 'In the Company of Shadows'! I don't know the last time I was this emotionally devoted to a book and I consumed its almost 1500 pages in two days and just, gawd my feels and there are three more sequels to come that are almsot as long and will surely continue to torture me like this.  
> If you're still hesitating, let me tell you: IT'S FREE AND THERE IS ROMANCE BETWEEN THE TWO PROTAGONISTS  
> please follow the link ---> [](http://www.aisylum.com/sonnyais)In the Company of Shadows


	8. Chapter 8

It was a long drive to Wolf’s Trap. More than enough time for Hannibal’s mind to provide him with a disturbing amount of worst case scenarios. It didn’t help that he had the ability to visually imagine things quite realistic.

Hannibal tried to think of what he could do to Fleyer to distract himself from the icy feeling that settled in the pit of his stomache, but most of it would be more than inappropriate with Will around. What he was sure of was that he didn’t plan to let Fleyer get out of the house alive. To satisfy his rising rage, Hannibal would welcome it if Will was unconscious, but otherwise unharmed when he got there (while he found the image of Will covered in blood quite lovely and arousing, it somehow lost its appeal  when Hannibal imaged it being Will’s blood).

He was in no mood to hold back and control his need to make Fleyer scream in agony, but he had to be realistic and reasonable. The police would check Fleyer’s body and Hannibal couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him. It would be a hassle, but he would need to make sure that Fleyer’s injuries appeared to be ones that were inflicted in a violent struggle and self-defense.

Thirty miles to Wolf’s Trap.

While Hannibal had concrete ideas about what he wanted to do to Fleyer, reality would surely differ and there were just too many variables. He had no idea how good a fighter Fleyer was and if Will would be conscious when he got there. He couldn’t let his craving to slash Fleyer open and make a delicious ragout gain the upper hand. Not in front of Will.

Will.

What would he do if he came too late?

What if Will was already dead?

Hannibal didn’t want to think about that possibility. But it still was a possible outcome. Fleyer wouldn’t need much time to inflict the same injuries to Will as Abigail had, only that Will wouldn’t survive. But Fleyer surely had kept to the speed limit as the risk of getting stopped by the police was something Fleyer would want to avoid, so maybe Hannibal would be there on time.

Ten miles to Wolf’s Trap.

Luckily, there had been no police car patrolling the street so far. Hannibal would have probably snapped the police officer’s neck instead of wasting time to explain why he was driving so fast (it would have been easy enough to make it look like Fleyer did it, but nevertheless wasted time).

The closer he got to Will’s house the more tense and anxious he grew. The image of Will’s lifeless body, blood streaming from his cut throat was too vivid and Hannibal cursed his own weakness. The mistake of not keeping a professional distance to Will was now taking its toll.

Will’s house finally showed up behind the trees, Fleyer’s car stood in front of it and Hannibal was torn between relief that he was finally here and a flash of fear and alarm at the confirmation that Fleyer really had taken Will. Of course he had been certain that Fleyer had gotten his hands on Will, but seeing proof of it was still causing his stomach to clench in a new wave of worry.

Hannibal slowed his car down a bit. He wanted to surprise Fleyer, not alarm him and speeding down the gravel walk would certainly do so. Hopefully the dogs wouldn’t run to the door, wagging their tails and informing Fleyer about Hannibal’s presence. 

The car came to a rather abrupt halt when Hannibal hit the brakes a good thirty meters away from the house.

Hannibal stepped out of the car, not bothering to close the door and spurted to the porch. There was little use to do so ducked. The sun stood high and shone brightly down on the patch of grass in front of the house. There was no movement visible behind the windows as far as Hannibal could tell from a quick glance.

Moments later, Hannibal was in front of the door and carefully turned around the door handle. It wasn’t locked. In a swift motion, he opened the door fully and stepped into the house. The dogs already waited at the door, wagging their tails and shuffling closer. The first was already leaping at him, looking up at him in hope for some food. For once, Hannibal didn’t care about the dog hairs on his trousers, and striding past the bunch, he scanned the first floor quickly.

Neither Fleyer, nor Will was anywhere to be seen.

Upstairs then.

Hannibal walked straight into the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife. Not as good as the ones he had at home, but it would suffice. The knife only had to fulfill the task of killing Fleyer, not to cut him open nice and clean. He made his way to the second floor as quietly as possible while trying to get there as fast as he could. He noted with slight annoyance that the dogs were following him. They would do good not to get in the way. The door to Will’s bedroom was closed. Hannibal didn’t stop to listen for any sound before he yanked the door open.

What he saw partly relieved him, but the anger and thirst for blood he felt was only fueled by it.

Fleyer was bent over Will’s limp body, seemingly arranging it to fit whatever image he had in mind. There was no blood on Will’s body or any other visible injuries, but he seemed lifeless. Probably drugged, Hannibal concluded. Hannibal’s guess was some kind of anaesthetic. Since Fleyer worked at the Hospital it should be easy for him to come by. Will’s hands and legs were tied securely with cable fixers.

Startled by Hannibal’s entering, Fleyer looked up, the concentration on his face twisting into a hostile snarl and grabbed the knife that lay beside him in the short time Hannibal had been distracted by his concern for Will. Hannibal had only time to take a step forward before Fleyer stood. His stance was defensive and Hannibal could tell by the way Fleyer held himself that he had had at least some advanced training.

A few of the dogs ran past Hannibal and towards Will, walking around him flustered. The others stayed in the corridor, sensing that something was wrong, but indecisive whether they should go in or not. One of them whimpered feebly.

Neither of them paid any attention to the dogs.

“Get away from him, Fleyer, he’s mine,” Hannibal said, his voice as authoritarian as he could muster while trying to sound calm. He tried to let his face main expressionless and devoid of any emotions that could show Fleyer how he really felt. The worry had subsided slightly, but did not fully ebb away yet.

Hannibal realized that his words sounded rather ambiguous. “Will’s my prey, not yours.” It would be counterproductive to show that he cared about Will’s life. It would make it more difficult to kill Fleyer if he used Will as a hostage. Though, in Will’s current state it would only slow Fleyer down and make him vulnerable should he try to pull Will up from the ground.

The other seemed momentarily baffled by Hannibal’s announcement rather than the fact that Hannibal knew his name, but made no attempt to use Will as leverage.

“I don’t see any reason why I should hand him over to you.” Fleyer looked at him disdainfully. “Don’t you think it’s pretty rude to barge in like that and claim that he’s your prey?” Hannibal was taken aback by being called rude and only stared at the other man, unable to form a response.

“Did no one teach you the basics of hunting? Let me tell you then: First come, first served.” Hannibal’s eyes narrowed dangerously and his jaw set in a tight line. Fleyer should have appeared in his collection of potential ingredients a long time ago.

“It’s disappointing to see that no one ever taught you proper manners.  Since when is it decent to hunt in somebody else’s territory?” Hannibal wanted to shut Fleyer up for good, but there was no opening in the other’s defensive stance and Hannibal wasn’t one to blindly lunge forward.

“It’s rather difficult to keep ones hunt to a certain territory around here. Too little variety that fits ones taste.  You know what I mean.” The hostile expression had vanished from his face, only to be replaced by one of pure annoyance. “You’ll have to find someone else.”

“There must be more than enough potential prey for you in the Hospital.” Hannibal wanted to end this conversation, he’d rather avoid having Will wake up in the middle of it and he had no idea what Fleyer had given him, so Hannibal didn’t know how long it would take until Will reached consciousness. “Leave him to me.” Hannibal’s voice made it clear that he wouldn’t argue over it.

“Since we both have the same prey, why don’t we share?” Fleyer offered, clearly trying to avoid further conflict, although he didn’t sound particularly pleased by the idea.

“No.” Hannibal almost growled. The image of killing Will together with Fleyer made him sick (the image of killing someone together with Will on the other hand had a certain appeal, but now was not the time to think about that).

“What did you give him?”

There was a beat of silence before Fleyer answered, probably deciding that he had no reason not to tell Hannibal. “Chloroform, then a Propofol IV in the car.” The effect of Propofol didn’t last long, about six to twenty minutes, but overall more reliable than the sole use of Chloroform while also not numbing the pain of injuries. There wouldn’t be any severe side effects, probably none at all. Good.

Hannibal nodded and glanced at Will’s pale face. “Well, this explains why he’s beginning to wake up.” It was a lie, but it caused Fleyer to turn towards Will, and Hannibal used his chance to make his move.

Within a second he was near enough to stab the knife into Fleyer’s abdomen. But Fleyer was fast. He aimed his own weapon at Hannibal’s arm, and the doctor evaded it with a quick sidestep.

There wasn’t much space to move freely. Will lay almost in the middle of the room, while the bed occupying one side of it. Not to mention the dogs, which stood uselessly and hindering around. But Hannibal had no time to be irritated by their presence as Fleyer already initiated the next attack. Fleyer lunged forward, pretending to aim at his left shoulder, but retracting his arm moments before Hannibal’s knife would’ve made contact with it, and instead using the momentum to swing his left foot at Hannibal’s right side. Hannibal barely had the chance to block the kick and tried to grab Fleyer’s foot, but the other skillfully shunned Hannibal’s hand.

After several minutes it became clear that neither of them would gain the upper hand anytime soon. Hannibal hadn’t expected Fleyer to be this good. In terms of experience, Hannibal was by far superior to Fleyer, but their skill level (at least when fighting with knives) was about the same, Hannibal guessed. If they kept this up, it would take time before one of them made a mistake. Time Hannibal didn‘t have.

Chances were high that Will’s hazy mind wouldn’t notice anything when he woke up and saw them fight, but Hannibal wasn’t going to risk it. He wasn’t going to underestimate Will’s mind. Hannibal knew that he didn’t look how like a normal man was supposed to appear in a situation like this. Neither his body language, nor his expression showed fear or anxiety.

It only took him a few seconds to comet o a conclusion. His face remained concentrated, not giving away his plan. Hannibal waited for Fleyer to come at him once more, knife aimed at his shoulder. Hannibal stepped to the side, as if to evade the attack, but he didn’t move quickly enough. One of Will’s dogs stood in the way and Hannibal glanced at him in fake surprise. Fleyer noticed Hannibal’s slow movement and proceeded his swift advance. The knife sunk into the arm, Hannibal had raised in defense. He gritted his teeth, but no sound escaped his mouth. It was no serious wound, but it still hurt.

Before Fleyer had a chance to pull his knife out or get out of Hannibal’s personal space, Hannibal knee collided with Fleyer’s groin who had barely time to groan painfully before the knife from Will’s kitchen tore through soft skin, damaging several vital organs (there was no need to spare those, when Hannibal wouldn’t be able to use them) before the tip grazed the lungs. It was sloppy, but the tilted angle in which the knife now stuck in Fleyer’s abdomen had been the easiest way to deliver fatal damage. Besides, it was wise to make it look messy instead of precisely damaging a single organ to ensure that Fleyer wouldn’t leave the house alive. It looked more like Hannibal blindly lunged forward with the knife, frantically trying to save his own life. The fact that he was injured as well would only make it more believable that Hannibal had acted purely in self-defense.

Fleyer’s eyes widened in surprise and he made a gargling noise, then his knees buckled under him and his fingers loosened their grip around the knife that still stuck in Hannibal’s arm and he sank to the ground with a loud thud. Blood dripped from his mouth and when coughed, more red spilled from his lips. When Fleyer didn’t appear to be capable of moving any more, Hannibal pulled the knife out of his arm and used the fine cloth that decorated his suit jacket to press it on the wound. After a short look at Will to see if he was still unconscious, he quickly made his way downstairs and to his car.

He parked it next to Fleyer’s. It would have looked suspicious had he left it so far away from Will’s house. He looked at the arm of his suit ruefully as he walked back into the house. He wouldn’t be able to remove those blood stains, but Will was safe now and it was a small price to pay for Will’s safety. Although Hannibal would have preferred Will to caugh  Fleyer there was no chancing what was done.

Will’s telephone lay in the kitchen. Hannibal dialed Jack’s number and waited impatiently for the man to pick up.

“Will?”

“No this is Hannibal.” He made his voice sound out of breath and slightly panicked.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen to Will?” Concern was evident in Jack’s voice.

“Yes. A man tried to kill Will. I think it was the one Will talked about. The man that killed the two victims.”

“Is Will alright?”Jack interrupted urgently before Hannibal could say more.

“I think he’s only unconscious, but I’ll check him for any injuries right away.”

“What about the man?”

“He attacked me, but luckily I took a knife from Will’s kitchen with me because I sensed something was wrong when I saw the man’s car outside.”

“I’ll be right over!” Jack said and hung up.

Hannibal put the phone back and hurried upstairs to check on Will. The majority of the dogs had settled down somewhere next to Will, only two were sniffing at Fleyer and the blood that drenched his shirt and pooled on the floor. He was already dead, eyes glassy and staring into nothing. With great difficulty ad the help of some dainties, Hannibal managed to usher the dogs out, then he knelt down next to Will and used the knife to cut the cable fixers. He put two fingers on Will’s carotid artery, feeling relief wash through him when he felt a steady heartbeat. He brushed a few strands of hair out of Will’s forehead and waited for Will to wake up, all the while not removing his fingers from the other’s throat. Feeling Will’s heartbeat had an oddly reassuring and calming effect on Hannibal. Maybe he would find some excuse to check Will’s heartbeat more often in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barely managed to finish the chapter. Is still have to pack some stuff for when I go to Paris tomorrow. Won't be back until the end of the week =) I have to admit I particularly enjoyed writing the scene between Hannibal and Fleyer (except for the fighting bit. Please tell me when something of it isn't understandable. I haven't written a fighting scene before so I'm not sure and I lack deeper knowledge of the english language to write it any better than that).  
> Oh, I'd sell my liver to see Hannibal's expression when someone calls him rude!  
> More Hannigram to follow, promise =)  
> Have a great week!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, take you Hannigram and be happy with it!  
> No telling what Hannibal would have used as a replacement for lube if they'd used Fleyer as a makeshift bed *cough*  
> Sorry, it took so long! I certainly imagined my holidays passing by differently. First cleaning out my grandma's home because she's at a retirement home now, right after I came back from Paris and then off to croatia with my relatives who drove me even more nuts than I already am...  
> I really hope that I get the last chapters done faster and that you had great holdays.  
> Yay, my beta corrected the first eight chapters! No more grammar mistakes!   
> Does a postcard stating 'Thank you for correcting my shitty writing without complaining about the lack and misplace of punctuation marks or my horrid grammar' exist anywhere?

When Will stirred, Hannibal didn’t pull his hand away, nor did he when Will’s eyelashes fluttered softly before he cracked his eyes open. The wash of relief took Hannibal by surprise. He had known that Will was alright, had checked his pulse and made sure that Fleyer would never again pose a thread. Hannibal didn’t doubt his medical skills or his knowledge in that area. So, there should be no reason to feel relieved to see that Will regained consciousness, just like Hannibal had expected. 

Will blinked a few times as he tried to focus his gaze. Hannibal could feel the heartbeat underneath his fingers accelerate when Will was conscious enough to notice Hannibal next to him. He couldn’t help the small smile that tucked at his lips. He helped Will sit up, unhappy that he had to take his hand away from Will’s throat for that purpose.

“Hannibal, what—“ Will mumbled, but broke off midsentence and leaped up as the memory of why he had been unconscious came rushing back to him. As soon as Will stood upright he began to sway on his feet, the quick motion obviously causing him to feel dizzy and off balance. Hannibal stood up from where he’d knelt and put his hands on either side of Will’s hip to steady him.

Will’s eyes darted around the room in alarm. “It’s alright, Will. Everything is fine.” Hannibal felt Will stiffening under his hands when saw Fleyer’s lifeless body on the floor.

“Is he dead?“  Will chocked out, and Hannibal nodded.

“Fortunately I came over to feed the dogs,” Hannibal lied smoothly. “I thought something was wrong when I saw his car outside. If I hadn’t taken one of your kitchen knives with me, we’d probably both be dead by now.”

Will’s attention snapped back at Hannibal at the mention of knives and he paled visibly when he noticed Hannibal’s injury.

“You’re hurt!” He exclaimed with an edge of panic in his voice. Hannibal frowned at Will’s worried expression and looked at his arm.

The handkerchief Hannibal had used to put pressure on the wound was drenched with his blood, making the injury look far worse than it actually was.

“It’s nothing serious.” Hannibal reassured Will, ignoring the urge to comb his hand through Will’s curls in a calming fashion. It made him oddly happy to see Will worrying about him.

Will continued to look at the bloody handkerchief and swallowed audibly. “It— It’s my fault you’re hurt. I’m sorry to have dragged you into this.” Will looked as if he’d been the one that had placed the cut there.

Hannibal shook his head and tightened his grip on Will’s hips. It wasn’t Will’s fault. It was Hannibal’s. He should have taken out Fleyer much sooner. “It’s not your fault, Will.” He waited until Will looked up, not meeting his eyes as usual. “I feared you were dead when I saw you lying on the floor." After a moment Hannibal added, "I’m glad I didn’t lose you.” It couldn’t hurt to be honest once in a while.

Will appeared almost startled by his words, although Hannibal wasn’t exactly sure why. Had Will thought that he wasn’t important to Hannibal? He hated that thought.

"I care deeply about you and your wellbeing, Will." It would surely seem like a joke to Will if he knew that Hannibal had already figured out who the killer was and chose not to tell, but Will didn’t need to know that. Not now and not ever.

If anything, that surprised Will even more and it made Hannibal want to tell Will just how obsessed he was with him as a whole. How much he wanted to run his hand through those curls and taste those lips, that where slightly parted in surprise. Or how much he wanted to feel Will trembling, and moaning his name underneath him. How much he wanted to possess Will.

It was a wonderful feeling to hold Will’s hips, but not enough. Hannibal wanted more. He wanted everything Will had to offer and then he would take everything else that remained.

Hannibal pulled Will closer, pressed their fronts together and Will’s gasped, half pleasure, half astonishment. The foretaste of what could be made a hunger inside Hannibal flare-up. A hunger he’d ignored for so long, but now it seemed impossible to deny this need any longer.

"H—Hannibal?" Will croaked out, his pale cheeks gained colour, and Hannibal could see Will’s pupils, widened with desire and hope, as he looked up queryingly. Hannibal didn’t care about the corps, not even five meters away from them and for all he cared they could use Fleyer as a makeshift bed. Nor did he care that that his actions were highly inappropriate at the moment. His thoughts had zeroed in on Will, shutting his careful thinking away.

"You know, Will," Hannibal began, his voice rough with the need to taste Will’s skin and to memorize its taste, to explore Will’s body until Hannibal knew every single inch of it by heart. "I haven’t eaten lunch yet, and you look far more delicious and appetizing than anything I could imagine." If Hannibal’s brain hadn’t been muddled by an all burning desire to have Will now -not later, after Crawford had been here with his team, or after they’d figured the killer’s identity out, but _now_ -, Hannibal would cringe at his choice of words, but he barely even registered them.

Will’s eyes widened in surprise, before his hand snapped forward, successfully grabbing Hannibal’s neck and crushing their mouths together. Will’s lips where soft, but demanding and forceful. The contrast send a pleasant shiver down Hannibal’s spine. He ran his tongue over Will’s lips, taking in the faint, saccharine like taste of chloroform. Will’s lips parted and Hannibal didn’t plan to stop exploring the other’s mouth anytime soon. He wanted to memorize the feeling of every tooth against his tongue and file away every single one of Will’s reactions.

Will’s moan against his mouth was like the first bite of one of Hannibal’s well-prepared meals. He didn’t only relish the taste of it, but also the reactions of the people he served it to. But this was far better than watching Will’s mouth close around a portion of meat and close his eyes in bliss at the taste of it for a split second. No, Will’s reaction to Hannibal kissing him was far more enjoyable than watching him eat.

The slide of Will’s tongue against his send sparks through his whole body and Hannibal couldn’t contain a groan when he realized that this was only an appetizer. Even if this was only a faint taste of what was to come, Hannibal wasn’t certain that he’d be satiated after dessert. Or ever for that matter.

Their mouths parted when they both couldn’t ignore their need for air any longer. Will’s fingers had dug painfully into Hannibal’s neck, and he leaned heavily against Hannibal, breath coming out in short gasps. Hannibal let his mouth trail to Will’s jaw and up to his ear. The stubbles felt pleasantly and painfully rough against his sensitive lips.

"You make me lose my good manners, my dear Will," Hannibal whispered hoarsely against Will’s ear.

A shudder went through Will when Hannibal’s hot breath met his ear. "What do you mean?" Will’s husky voice was like music to Hannibal. He wanted to listen to it more. He sucked on Will's earlobe, smirking when Will’s breath hitched.

If Will’s mind was clearer at the moment he’d remember the bloody body lying in the room and he'd be able to answer that question himself, but Hannibal didn't want this moment to end. Silently cursing himself, Hannibal searched his hazy mind for a satisfying answer.

"I didn’t ask for your consent." Was Hannibal’s lame reply, and Will laughed out loud, a full and happy sound Hannibal hadn’t heard in what seemed like months. Hannibal moved back to see the crinkles around Will’s eyes and the way his kiss-swollen lips curved upwards.

" _I_ kissed _you_."

"Then my reputation as a gentleman is saved." Hannibal smiled and moved his hands to the hem of Will' shirt. "May I?"

"Yes, yes, please!" Hannibal's hands slipped inside the shirt, finger brushing over Will's sides and Will’s body moved into the touch, seeking more of it and Hannibal was only too happy to grand him that wish. He could feel the muscles underneath Will’s skin quiver at the contact and shiver when he let his nails graze over the small of Will's back.

Absentmindedly, he wondered how long it would take Jack to get here. He was torn between wishing he'd have an accident on the way and that he'd arrive in the next few minutes. Because Hannibal wasn't sure if he could restrain himself enough not to rip the clothes off Will's body if Jack didn't get here soon and there was no point asking if Will would mind letting Hannibal lick over his exposed body once he remembered Fleyer.

 His thoughts were cut off when Will captured his mouth in another heated kiss, and Hannibal thanked the remaining effects of the Propofol for slowing Will's thinking down.

Hannibal moved his mouth down, and Will arched his back and made a delicious sound at the back of his throat when Hannibal sucked at his pulse point. The racing beat of Will's heart underneath his lips felt wonderful. Everything about Will felt wonderful and made Hannibal feel a hunger he hadn't felt in a long time.

He pressed their bodies together, wanting to feel as much of Will as he possible could with their clothes still on. They both groaned when their erections pressed together through the layers of clothing.

One hand left Will's back to slip between them and press against Will's cock through his trousers.

"Hannibal!" Will exclaimed, but not in protest. Hannibal's mouth sought Will's lips once more, not getting enough of it and his left hand moved down the small of Will's back to grab his ass and squeezed it firmly.

Will's hips thrust forward and Hannibal growled into their kiss.

And then he did the most stupid thing he could in this situation.

He grabbed Will' hand and moved it to his mouth when their lips parted, licking a wet trail over the abused skin. He felt Will tense and realize what he had done, but it was already too late. Will's head snapped around, and looked at Fleyer with a mix of shock and guilt.

Will opened his mouth without saying anything for a few moments. Then he croaked out, "We need to call Jack." Hannibal wanted to kill Fleyer all over again for managing to ruin this precious moment with Will even when dead.

Hannibal suppressed a sigh and retreated his hands from Will, although, surprisingly, the other made no attempt to step away from Hannibal or to retract his hands from Hannibal's neck. Hannibal's hands felt cold without Will's warm skin underneath. "I already called him and explained the situation when you were unconscious."

Various emotions crossed over Will's face, as he stared at the bloody man on the floor. Hannibal knew that part of Will wanted to go over there and search for clues to who this man was and why he'd chosen Will to be become one of his victims. The other part had gone on alert, wanting to remain a safe distance, until Will felt steady enough on his own feet to feel wholly secure.

"Should I search his pockets for his ID, or do you want to wait until Jack gets here?"

“I want to know who he is,” Will said determined, although his fingers twitched when Hannibal stepped towards the dead man, as if to hold him back.

Hannibal searched Fleyer’s pockets carefully, trying not to move the body too much or get any blood on his hands. What an ironical thought, Hannibal mused.  Over the years so much blood had flowed out of countless bodies underneath his hands that he could take a bath in it. Just like Siegfried in ‘The Song of the Nibelungs’, who had bathed in dragon’s blood and became invulnerable through its touch. Hannibal could feel it too. The feeling of power and control after every single kill flowing through his veins, and the certainty that the police couldn’t catch him.

And, Hannibal smiled wryly to himself, just like Siegfried, he too had one part where he was vulnerable, but had noticed it too late. Where a leave had fallen on Siegfried’s back and successfully impeded any of the dragon’s blood from touching the skin, Hannibal had Will.

His hands closed around Fleyer’s wallet and he pulled it out then handed it over to Will. Their fingers brushed, and the warm affection he saw in Will’s eyes, mixed with the lingering shock of having almost been killed and then kissing Hannibal next to a corps, send an unexpected surge of desire through Hannibal.

And foolishly, Hannibal wished that when Will found out that Hannibal  was the Chesapeake Ripper –because there was no doubt that Will eventually would, the only question was when-, that this warmth would still be there and mingle with the hurt, betrayal, anger and shock that Will would surely feel.

**Author's Note:**

> wow, seriously Hannibal can't you speak a bit less sophisticated, I've really trouble finding adequat word in the bit of vocabulary I know  
> written for  this prompt  
> hope you enjoyed it so far =)


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